


The Importance of Trust

by KazueEmiko



Series: Fire Emblem x Final Fantasy XIV Collection [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, Minor Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22799248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KazueEmiko/pseuds/KazueEmiko
Summary: After an incident in the past, Dorothea and Ingrid had difficulty staying in-synch during battles, their distrust for each other causing more problems than necessary. It was time they regain their trust for each other, especially during a trip to Amdapor Keep.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Series: Fire Emblem x Final Fantasy XIV Collection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631266
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	The Importance of Trust

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what to say here. I think my brain fried itself from writing over 10k+ words. Also, patch 2.55 crushed me emotionally. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Hope you all enjoy this addition to the collection! I had a ton of fun writing their relationship, both the good and the bad. I want to make a note that Edelgard and Byleth's traits and background are carried over from the first FFXIV AU OS featuring them.

The Black Shroud was known for its blazing heat and humidity. Perspirations sprouted from the foreheads of its weary travelers and citizens, the sun beating relentlessly. Its rays spared no adventurers either.

Ingrid Brandl Galatea and Dorothea Arnault walked through the outskirt of Amdapori Keep, their breathing heavy and their brows scrunched. The tall structures that surround them did little to help their situation.

“If I had known it was this hot, I would’ve worn something much thinner!” Dorothea said, wiping her forehead. “Why do I have to be a Scholar? Can’t I go back as a Dancer?”

Ingrid said nothing in return. She needn’t say anything. Dorothea knew all too well the importance of a balanced team. Even if it was just the two of them, there must always be a healer on a team.

Still, it would have been more convenient if she had had something lighter. She adjusted her thick spellbook at hand and tugged on the hems of her cloth armor. The sudden movement caused her faerie, Eos, to stumble on her shoulder.

“Hey!” the faerie yelped, regaining composure. “Watch what you’re doing, Dorothy!”

“Oops. Sorry about that, honey.”

Eos puffed her cheeks. As for Ingrid, she looked at her comrade, still walking. The draconic helmet and purple armor hid much of her features, but the corner of her lips curled down for the world to see.

“They offer protection, Dorothea,” she said.

“Well, they aren’t offering any protection from melting.”

“You are not going to melt.”

“Yes, I will.”

“Oh really.”

“Watch. Once I turn into a pile of goop,” Dorothea lifted her head, covered her eyes, and shook her head. “You’re going to feel sorry!”

“Good. You can go ahead and melt then.”

“How cruel!”

“You say the silliest things at times,” Ingrid sighed and returned her gaze to their front, ignoring the snickering Eos nearby. The two females passed by the sandy pillars. They soon arrived at another outer part of the Keep. Looking around, Ingrid added, after motioning her hand, “I’m not even sure why I’m still friends with you.”

“I feel flattered,” Dorothea rolled her eyes. She hastened her steps until she walked side-by-side with Ingrid. Head cocked, she smiled. “Still, I’m glad we’re still together.”

The faerie on Dorothea’s shoulder suddenly perked her head. Ingrid and Dorothea halted. “I feel them.” Eos quickly flew on ahead, stopping short of her travel. She scanned. Then, Eos turned to the adventurers and pointed to their left. They immediately propped their weapons up at the sight.

Members of the Lambs of Dalamud.

It was a dark cult run by crazed followers. Muffled screams reached the adventurers’ ears. Beyond the standing enemies, women and children were rounded up, tied to a pole, gags stuffed in their mouth. Dorothea’s features paled. They’re using the Amdapor Keep’s ancient chambers to perform blood sacrifices in an effort to resurrect their evil lord.

They prayed for a repeat of the Seventh Umbral Calamity. They’ve begged for Dalamud to return. But these lunatic followers have no place in this new era of peace. Ingrid and Dorothea exchanged glances. Then, with some hesitation, they ran in opposite directions of the sides.

Ingrid reeled her lance behind her back. She bent her knees, almost kissing the ground with them. Then, with a push, leaped high into the air. As she disappeared in sight, Dorothea waved her hand over the opened book, pages flapping to its respective spell.

“Eos, support Ingrid!” she commands. The faerie nods and raised her hands to the air, casting supportive spells to the Dragoon. Dorothea’s book brightened in white as she said, “Bio!”

Toxin seeped to the five members present. They screamed and howled from their roasting innards. Yet the group did not succumb to their afflictions, their weapons raised. Then, all together, glared.

Dorothea felt her sweat break out.

They were focused on her.

The Scholar licked her lips and the pages from her spell book flipped once again. She had expected such a reaction.

Dorothea hopped back. White light circled around her right arm, creeping upward until a ball of energy resides on her palm. She swung her hand out, Ruin striking one of the five. Another Ruin was cast afterward, leaving little room for her enemies to strike.

A loud whistle pierced the air. A gust blew against Dorothea, forcing her to shield her face. Ingrid came crashing to the ground. One unfortunate soul had his heart pierced. The Dragoon ripped her weapon out and majestically created distance with a backflip. She narrowed her eyes, peering through her helmet, and lunged at the nearest cult member.

Gasping, he deflected her blow, his shield held up, sparks flying. This did not stop Ingrid. Her arms pulled back, but the lance sprung forward with life. She kept on thrusting frantically. Pushing him. Testing him. He gritted his teeth, her enemy trying to slam her spear aside with his shield. But he could not find the chance to.

Then, in the moment of stress, they heard a loud snap. One of the straps that held the shield to his arm had broken.

Ingrid reacted immediately. Blood splattered upon her worn armor. More rained, decorating her instrument with crimson once she tore her lance out of the enemy. Ingrid twirled it. Then, with bent knees, righted her elongated weapon and watched the group.

Two down, three more to go.

Dorothea remained in the background, Ingrid positioned herself in front of her two allies, and Eos stayed close, showering Ingrid with buffs. The three cult members were breathing heavily. Thanks to the earlier affliction, their strength had sapped, the Scholar noting their trembling legs. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, glancing at Ingrid.

There was a pause. Dorothea drew her lips to a line, her heart thundering within her breasts. “Ingrid,” she said. “Make sure to stay in my sight— and please, don’t use Jump.”

The Dragoon hadn’t anticipated her suggestion. She glanced over her shoulder, eyeing the Scholar.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Just a gut feeling.”

Ingrid frowned. “That’s not a good enough reason. If I use Dragonfire Dive, it will knock them out in one strike. I only need Eos to back me up.”

“No, it won’t work.” Dorothea cast Ruin once the enemy moved, a scream chortled from their throat. She too frowned. “You’re not going to wipe them out instantly.”

“How could you say that?” Ingrid bit back an additional remark. Despite their long partnership, Dorothea, once again, had the galls to tell her what to do. They’d risk so much by wasting more time on these goons. Prolong in Amdapor Keep and they were bound to be surrounded by reinforcements. Seven Hells if they were dragged into the Keep as sacrifices… She squeezed her lance. Hard. “Don’t tell me what to do. I can handle this.”

Dorothea reached out to Ingrid. “Ingrid! Don’t go off on your own!”

Her words went nowhere. Ingrid launched herself up into the air, far longer than the previous Jump. The trio had noticed her disappearance. Though their eyes watched, two men out of the three charged at the Scholar. Dorothea cursed and threw herself to the side.

A sword whistled over her head, missing the chance to behead her. Dorothea raised her head, scrambling to her feet. She could not even stand upright without throwing herself out of harm’s way again. This time, she narrowly dodged a fireball.

“Geez! You guys just won’t let up!” she yelled. Had she been a Dancer, Dorothea would have sliced and diced them up in no time. A Scholar's job can only do so much on the battlefield. They were not fit for frontline combat.

Her faerie frantically shifted attention from her owner to her subject and back. “Are you okay, Dorothy?!” Eos, occupied with Ingrid, asked.

Dorothea grimaced, but nodded. “Focus on Ingrid! I have a bad feeling about this.”

As the men inched closer, the clouds overhead split apart. The color of orange and red flashed before Dorothea. The Scholar watched Ingrid smash into the group. Upon impact, the ground had cracked. Ingrid’s lance drove the tip right through the breastplate and into a foe’s chest. There was a crunch.

His comrade was not so lucky either. Dorothea raised her shields up in-time for insurance, the flames that sprout from the strike burning those who stood near. Their shrieks pierced the clear blue sky.

One by one, the members of the cult succumbed to their injuries. When the last of their kind fell, Ingrid slowly straightened her back, tearing out the bloodied lance. Ingrid flicked her lance, the crimson residue splattered upon the ground. She then glanced at her partner with a small smile.

“See? I told you I would get them all,” she said. She felt like they were winning this fight the moment it had started. They controlled the situation, her strikes always ending with casualties. “Mission accomplished. Let’s save the civilians now.”

“…”

Dorothea frowned. Then, the Dragoon felt a sudden force knock her off her feet, toppling backward. Dorothea had yanked her and threw her to the ground. Ingrid instantly landed on her butt with great intensity.

“That hurts!” She glared to above. The blonde warrior opened her mouth, ready to give her a piece of her mind. Instead, she heard her friend cry out.

Something slammed into Dorothea’s shoulder. She caught only a brief sight of it. It was a black blur, its impact resembling that of a roundhouse kick. The Scholar landed in the arms of the Dragoon, Ingrid instinctively wrapping her arms around Dorothea with widened eyes. Dorothea squinted one eye, noticing the arrow buried deep into her arm.

An archer was still breathing. He had gotten back to his feet, ignored the burns, and struck the healer. The same could be said for the magus. Heat snaked around his arm, soon pulling his hand back. Dorothea quickly called forth another shield. The patterned barrier completed in time as a flurry of arrows and fireballs crashed into it.

“How are they still alive?!” Ingrid said, tightening her grip on Dorothea. “I don’t understand!”

Dorothea managed a sigh. “God forbids what they’ve done to their own body for Dalamud… They’re sturdier than they look.” Cracks began to take shape on her shield as another wave befell. Dorothea bit her lip and strengthened their defense, the motion sending a hot spike of pain through her arm. Eos hastily returned to their side.

“Oh, look what you’ve done to yourself, Dorothy!”

“Not my fault.” Dorothea managed to grin, albeit forced, her fingers curled around the imbedded arrow. With a deep breath, she pulled. The Scholar lowered her head and stifled a scream. Eos wasted no time in conjuring white magic for Dorothea. Relief eventually washed over her wound. Peering through her slit eyes, she commanded, “Ingrid, stay put. I’m going to double down on poisoning them.”

“A sound plan, but I can’t agree with you.” Ingrid released Dorothea. She took her fallen lance and stood up. “I can’t place any more stress on you.”

“Could you just listen to me for once?”

Ingrid’s jawlines were outlined. “How about you listen to me for once too?”

“Ingrid, your earlier plan didn’t work.”

“Yes, but I’m not going to fail this one,” she swept her weapon. At that same moment, the barrier had shattered. The Scholar raised her uninjured arm, but she could not conjure another spell, the shield crumbling into fine, sparkling particles. In lieu, Ingrid burst from the lowered defense.

It was her time to shine. The Dragoon roared. This time, without failure.

Arrows flew past her dashing figure, one managing to draw blood from her cheek. Ingrid drove onward. The archer lowered his metal bow just in time to block her swing. It locked with his weapon, a power struggle. Ingrid quickly pulled back her lance and thrust it. He was not fast enough, the tip of her lance shredding through his flesh, and bursting from his back. Blood pooled into his mouth and his screams drowned out by the bubbling red.

When he collapsed, Ingrid twirled her lance, and jammed the bloodied tip into the magus from behind. He tried to move, but, just like his comrade, he was not fast enough.

“Grrk!”

The adventurer flicked her lance down one more time, splattering their remains onto the ground. Hostages from nearby pulled their legs in, their wide, watery eyes staring at Ingrid. Ingrid ignored them, scanning.

That was the last of them.

She slowly returned the weapon to her back once they were sure of their surroundings. Ingrid looked to Dorothea. Dorothea sat on the ground, sweat rolling down her face, winded from the confrontation. Eos hovered near her, the tiny faerie’s hands glowing in a gentle green. The Scholar raised her head once Ingrid got down to her level. Their faces were at proximity, their breaths tickling each other. Ingrid tilted her head.

Good. The colors on Dorothea’s face remains the same. Ingrid faintly smiled. “I’m glad you’re okay.” Then, she frowned, an emotion stirring inside of her. “Though why did you take the blow? You know you’re ill-equipped to take on attacks.”

“I had to,” Dorothea said.

“Had to?”

“Yes.”

“Could you tell me why?” Ingrid firmed her lips. “I would not be able to sleep if you left me with that explanation.”

The brown-haired woman stood up, Eos hovering nearby. “If you want the truth, let’s just say I don’t trust you.” A pause. “Don’t get me wrong, I entrust you with my everything. I’ve known you since we met in Limsa Lominsa’s Grand Company. However,” Dorothea chuckled, with irony. “Not in battle, sweetie.” She then glanced at her injury, noticed the scar healed over it, and quietly groaned about her torn shirt. “Gosh, I’m going to have to sew this once we return to our apartment in The Mist.”

“Dorothy!” her faerie bopped her head. “Don’t leave the citizens tied up!”

“Oh, right!”

Dorothea got up and tended to the prisoners. Gratitude was heard in the background. Some of the children clung to the Scholar, their wails echoing throughout the premise. She softly hushed them, telling, “We must not make too much noise, lest we meet those creepy men and women again.”

Ingrid, however, remained still, her eyes locked on her friend.

“Dorothea…”

It’s unfortunate that her friend could not trust her…

She stood and whistled for their chocobos. The yellow birds, named Glenn and Anderson, rushed to their side. As Dorothea secured the four hostages on their mounts, Ingrid closed her eyes. She sighed.

Then again, Ingrid could not trust her either.

[-----]

After returning the captured citizens to Camp Tranquil, the two adventurers teleported to The Mist by making use of the large Aetheryte. Nightfall had already arrived by the time they approached their apartment complex, the Topmast.

Glenn and Anderson were safely guided to their chocobo stable, the two male feathered companions settling into their soft hay. When Ingrid and Dorothea entered the warm lobby, only a lone receptionist was present. The mender and material supplier had gone home for the day.

The female receptionist politely greeted Ingrid and Dorothea. However, she struggled to keep a smile on her face. Grime, sweat, dried blood, and the smell of death. Ingrid was thankful for her draconic helmet, the corner of her lips pulled down. She said nothing to the receptionist. The Dragoon grabbed Dorothea’s hand, her torn glove enveloping it, and walked to the staircase.

Ingrid wasn’t in the mood to entertain her, and neither did Dorothea.

Moments later, the two shed their thick and heavy attires inside of their tiny studio apartment. Dorothea went to shower first. Ingrid, sitting on a stool in the same bathroom, used the sink water, bucket, and ragged cloth to wash their outfits.

“Today was rather eventful, don’t you think?” Dorothea remarked.

Ingrid responded with a hum. So much had transpired. Mostly good things. But there were also bad things. She dryly swallowed and scrubbed her purple helmet. Faint squeaks emitted, and she sighed. Then, she squinted her eyes through the steam, and said, “Hey, can’t you tone down the heat? There’s too much steam in here.”

“Can’t a lady get her hot shower?”

“Are you implying that I’m not a woman?”

“I did not say that— though you are far manlier than some of the guys I’ve met.”

“I’ll have you know that just because I’m a Dragoon, it doesn’t mean I’ve lost my womanhood!”

Dorothea laughed, the water still running. Eventually, Ingrid found herself chuckling. She shook her head, closed her eyes, and said, “You always say the silliest of things.” Ingrid resumed scrubbing the stains, her mind beginning to wander as Dorothea began a sweet melody.

-

_Footsteps thumped rapidly upon the crystalized grounds. Compared to the fertile landscape from miles away, the land was inhabitable for living, but rich in research materials. Only daring researchers would step foot upon this area. Ingrid, Dorothea, Felix, and Lysithea ran through the Singing Shards in Mor Dhona, their breaths fast. Beasts and monsters far larger than any ordinary from the vibrant green field reside here, a prime example being a Behemoth. And it was hot on their trail._

_The Dragoon, leading the group, glanced over her shoulder. “Do you still think it’s a good idea to retreat?”_

_Dorothea nodded. “We have to!” One moment too soon and one of them would become its lunch._

_“Can’t Felix and Lysithea take care of that beast?”_

_“I’m out of bullets.” Felix shook his head. The Gunbreaker swung his large gunsword in the air. “I can attack him, but I’m not exactly a Paladin.”_

_Extraordinary firepower was exchanged for limited ammunitions. Once they were drained, the adventurer would be posed as a weakened Paladin. It did not help that his outfit served little protection, boosting speed and dexterity in contrast. And Felix hated that. He side-stepped, narrowly avoiding a swipe from the large monster. Sweat slid down his face, his jacket fluttering. Ingrid tightened her grip around the lance._

_“What about you, Lysithea?”_

_She also shook her head. “I’m no tank!” she said. “If you think it’s a good idea to throw me at it, then you thought wrong. I’m going to die sooner than you expect!” The Summoner squeaked when Behemoth swiped. Strands of her white hair were snipped, its claws missing her back. “I can’t cast any more magic!”_

_Lysithea was gifted. She always was. The white-haired woman was one of the few in Eorzea to learn and use arcane art. Those who could summon the primals and transmute the primals’ essences were a rarity. Unfortunately, she was cursed with weak stamina. For each summon, her strength would sap at an alarming speed. And just like Felix, once she was out of ammunition, she was out of the ring for a long period of time. She could use an Ether, but… she had just run out of it, using it with Felix to distract the raging beast._

_Ingrid looked forward. They were still in the Singing Shards, nowhere near the exit. Just how far did they travel in this territory? She cursed. What should have been a simple trip to gather crystals for a shopkeeper clearly did not occur, their metallic and leather boots continuing to clomp on the ground. It would be hopeful for him to understand why they’ve returned empty-handed._

_If they get out alive._

_A couple of minutes later and Behemoth was not shaken. It roared, and the creature’s muscles bulged as it tried to swipe and grab his prey. They’ve dodged it each and every time. However, Ingrid, Dorothea, Felix, and Lysithea could only keep running for so long._

_The youngest of the four yelped. The Gunbreaker threw his hand and caught Lysithea by the arm. She jerked in his grasp, stumbling back to her feet. This slowed the two down by mere seconds._

_And that was more than enough for Behemoth._

_“Look out!”_

_Dorothea’s voice reached them too late. Felix eyes widen, the male adventurer unable to pull Lysithea away from danger. Nor himself either. The beast snarled and snapped its jaws._

_THUNK!_

_Its abysmally large teeth collided with a shield. Behemoth howled as its mouth bounced from a sturdy surface, the light blue barrier interfering. Dorothea stood from the distance, her hand toward her comrades, and deflected. Selene, her other faerie, rushed to aid the two._

_“Come on!” she tugged a small part of Felix’s collar. “Don’t dilly-dally around!”_

_Felix heeded and pulled them away from danger. They ran past Dorothea. Ingrid nodded, and began to lead the group away… Until they realize one member was missing. The trio stopped in place and looked back._

_“Dorothea! What are you doing?” Ingrid asked. The Scholar was rooted in her position, hand over her glowing book, and Selene hovering nearby. Dorothea’s features strained as she strengthened the barrier. “Holding it back!”_

_“You damn fool!” Felix yelled and swept his hand. “There’s a difference between courage and recklessness! You are being reckless!”_

_“It won’t be if you all can get out of here!” Beads of sweat began to form on her forehead, the healer exerting even more energy. “Trust in me!”_

_“You think you can be a hero, huh?!”_

_“FELIX, JUST LISTEN TO ME!”_

_“Tch!” he scowled and turned his back to the Scholar. Felix hated it. He hated someone playing the hero, he hated someone playing the bait, and he hated someone playing the sacrifice. There was a reason why he became a tank. This was his job, not hers. Still, if Dorothea was so insistent… He bit his lip until it bled. “If I see even a scratch on you, I’m not going to forgive you!” The ex-mercenary squeezed Lysithea’s hand, her yelp ignored. “Let’s go.”_

_“W-We can’t leave Dorothea behind!” Lysithea said, tugging away. “She’s going to die!”_

_“She won’t if we leave as soon as possible,” Ingrid agreed with Felix. “The longer we stay, the less time she has to hold it back.”_

_“Are you sure?”_

_Ingrid nodded. “Let’s trust in her.”_

_They started running again. This time, without Dorothea. The distance grew between the split party. Ingrid slowed to a stop, her heart pounding hard within her chest, and watched both Felix and Lysithea dash ahead. She glanced over her shoulder. The Scholar was keeping the shield up, Behemoth unable to break through. Ingrid’s jawlines formed._

_Please, stay safe!_

_CRACK!_

_Her heart dropped to her stomach. An audible crack resonated in the air, the massive creature slamming its entire weight against Dorothea’s defense. The brown-haired woman stomped her foot from behind, digging her heel into the smooth surface, and reeled her hand back. Toxin seeped into the creature’s thick skin. Soon, another shield was cast. Once again, the cracks appeared on the new barrier, Behemoth becoming enraged instead. Ingrid’s features paled. Dorothea was not going to run! She was going to stay true to her words, even at the expense of her life!_

_What a fool she is to trust in Dorothea!_

_Ingrid righted her lance. Without thinking, she kicked forward, launching herself at Behemoth. A purple blur zipped by Dorothea. She and Selene stared with wide eyes, her hand pulling back. The instant the barrier came down with a shatter, the Dragoon burst through with weapon pointed out._

_Its skin was too thick. So thick, her lance had shattered once it came into contact. Ingrid felt her heart stop. At that moment, Behemoth snapped her into its mouth. She heard an inhumane scream, soon dawning upon her that it was hers. Pain exploded from her back and chest, its teeth piercing through armor and chainmail._

_It was unbearable, and she wanted to die._

_“INGRID, NO!” Dorothea screamed, her book wildly flipping its pages. White energy rapidly swirled around her arm and crawled up to her hand. Ruin shot to the creature crushing Ingrid in its grip. The beast stumbled a few steps backward, but it kept ahold of the Dragoon. The Scholar felt hot tears run down her face, hearing her friend’s choked outcry, and began another Ruin. “LET HER GO!”_

_No matter how many Ruins she’s sent, and Selene trying to cast healing spells to alleviate Ingrid’s anguish, Behemoth would not let up. Ingrid tried to tear herself off from its mouth, but its iron grip provided little room for escape._

_God, why didn’t Ingrid place her trust in her?! Dorothea’s vision blurred as more Ruins were cast. Then, she layered another Bio on the beast. The four-legged creature wildly shook its head, eventually dropping Ingrid with a plop. Behemoth howled and shrieked from the burning intensity, stomping and clawing the ground. Ingrid barely lifted her head, blood pooling from underneath. The cracked helmet showed her right emerald hue, shedding tears and staring at the thrashing beast. She groaned once the pain fully assaulted her._

_“You are the biggest, dumbest fool that I have ever met in my entire life, Ingrid!” Dorothea bitterly smiled, casting Physick on the injured Dragoon. Accompanied by Selene, the gaping holes that exposed the flesh wounds sealed up under the gentle green light. However, every healer understands that their spells are only a temporary solution, a medical facility required to properly treat. Dorothea resisted the urge to slap Ingrid once she pushed herself up onto four. “I was doing okay!”_

_“Are… you sure?” Ingrid hoarsely breathed. She raised her head and narrowed her eyes. “Clearly your shield couldn’t hold it back. If I didn’t jump in, you would’ve been its dinner!”_

_“You— YOU IDIOT! I was going to poison it until it died!”_

_A roar cut through their argument. They looked to their enemy and watched it slowly approach. Ingrid glanced at her broken lance from afar and cursed._

_Before Behemoth returned to Dorothea and Ingrid, a gunsword slammed into its skull. It roared once again, backing away from the intense slam. Felix hopped back, his hand twirling and swinging the unique blade. He pointed at the creature. Then, he snarled, “What’s wrong with you both?! You both should’ve retreated with us!”_

_They were unable to respond. Lysithea, behind Felix, managed to cast a small Ifrit with small amounts of magic energy that regenerated over time. Book at hand, she and Felix collaborated, pushing Behemoth back even further. Though the two lack the firepower they originally started with, they made it up with teamwork and tactical move sets._

_“You should retreat!” Lysithea commanded._

_Ifrit unleashed a burst of fire at Behemoth, a high-pitch whine heard. The Gunbreaker immediately rammed his weapon into the creature’s head, a crunch heard upon impact. He and her primal caused it to stumble once more._

_Behemoth quickly slipped out of view, its claws scraping harshly on the crystallized surface. Behemoth left its mark on the edge of the cliff, its howls echoing throughout the pit. Seconds ticked by until silence greeted them. The group heaved a sigh, noticing they had held their breath. Except for Ingrid._

_“Ingrid!”_

_She collapsed, a dull ache spreading like a spider’s web throughout her body. Dorothea was there to catch her friend, falling to her bottom from the immense weight of her damaged armor. Ignoring the spike of pain from her behind, she squinted one eye, examining her ally._

_“Selene,” Dorothea asked. “How is she doing?”_

_The faerie pressed her tiny hand on the woman’s cheek. She looked up to her owner. “Ingrid’s lost a lot of blood. We need to get her to the nearest establishment.” Lysithea crossed her arms, Ifrit mimicking her movement. “Let’s have Felix take her. It would be quicker that way.”_

_Felix, after placing his weapon behind his back, picked up his childhood friend. He grumbled incomprehensibly, his dark hues shifting between her and Dorothea. Then, he flopped her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. One hand resting on her lower back, he pointed to the exit. “Saint Coinach’s Find is closer than Revenant’s Toll.”_

_And so they went, Lysithea and Dorothea following behind closely. As they ran, Lysithea glanced at her comrade, her brows arched._

_“Dorothea, she’s going to be okay. She’s a tough cookie.”_

_“…you’re the last person I would hear that from.”_

_Lysithea shrugged. Then, she murmured, “I’ve never seen you both so out of sync before… What happened?”_

_“I don’t know.” Dorothea looked elsewhere. The camp was close, Felix skidding to a stop upon arrival. When the two females slowed to a stop, Dorothea, winded from the jog, repeated, “I don’t know.”_

_That was all she could say._

_“I don’t know.”_

-

Dorothea’s wince pulled her back to reality. Ingrid snapped her head up, noticing her friend standing in front of the sink. The Scholar gripped her shoulder, a large, red bump located on her arm. Ingrid deposited the gauntlet into the second bucket and stood up. Her hands hovered above the sore spot. Upon closer inspection, she drew her lips to a line. The scar was inflamed.

“I’ll get an ice pack and ointment for you.”

“Yes, but later,” Dorothea nodded. She glanced over her shoulder, staring at Ingrid’s hand hovering over hers. Dorothea looked up. That worried look on Ingrid’s face… It was not so remarkable that a person would be in awe. However, for Dorothea, she always had an extra wrinkle on her forehead, her hands frantically gesturing around. Dorothea’s eyes crinkled, placing that same hand on top of Ingrid’s. “After you finish showering.”

“Oh… Oh, right.”

She had spent so much time scrubbing away and spacing out, Ingrid had forgotten that she needed to wash up.

As the blonde warrior turned her back towards Dorothea and undressed her undergarments, Dorothea’s eyes roamed her friend’s body.

First went her bra… then her underwear…

Her eyes narrowed. Compared to hers, Ingrid’s was riddled with scars. Some gash dug deep into her flesh, becoming a large white haphazard lump. Others barely scraped, leaving behind a dark blemish on the otherwise porcelain skin.

What would Ingrid look if she didn’t have these scars?

Dorothea reached out, eliciting a pitched yelp from Ingrid. Goosebumps popped from her skin as her comrade traced along one of the scars on her back. Ingrid felt heat collect under her cheeks, puffing out a blush, and shot a glare.

She bet she would look just as beautiful as she is now.

“D-Dorothea! What are you doing?”

“Just admiring your scars.”

Ingrid frowned amidst her redness. “Did you have to touch them, though? They’re sensitive, you know.”

“Oh, sorry about that,” Dorothea said, retracting her hand. “I’ll let you shower now.”

“Right.”

“By the way, you’re beautiful as always.”

The compliment threw her off. Then again, Dorothea was known for her honeyed words. Ingrid took a step into the bathtub, her back facing her naked friend.

“You jest.”

“Oh? Would you prefer if I had said that you’re handsome?”

“Dorothea,” Ingrid huffed, the discoloration still on her cheeks. She turned around and grabbed the shower curtains. “Can you _please_ get dressed?”

The Dragoon pulled on the shower curtains once Dorothea gave a satisfactory response, though not without a giggle from the Scholar. Curse Dorothea for saying the silliest of things! They always made her heart race like those Kirin!

“Why do you keep saying those things to everyone?” Steam began to fill the bathroom once more as Ingrid washed off the bits of grimes and blood that clung to her skin. She grumbled under her breath, trying to focus on the washing. The pressure intensified among her sore skin as she mumbled, “I don’t deserve those words.”

She’s never been one to think about looks. Who has time for it? And most importantly, why does it matter? Ingrid became an adventurer to help those around her, to become a shining knight for the helpless, and make just decisions for those seeking advice. The concept of beauty never had a place in her life.

Ingrid quietly sighed, sponge placed on the edge of the white tub, and dipped half of her head into the water. She didn’t need to look pretty. Though if she really had to place a finger on who defines beauty, it wasn’t her, but it’s…

“…Dorothea.”

[-----]

Dorothea relocated to their bedroom, dressing in a modest pair of pajamas. Ingrid shortly joined afterward with a set of her own modest pajamas, similar in design with her roommate. Ointments and an ice pack chilled the swollen scar until Dorothea can feel the pain no more. By the time they settled under the singular blanket on their queen size bed, the young night had aged.

Ingrid slept on her side, head rested on her arm, and back facing Dorothea. Dorothea was on the opposite end of the mattress, facing the entranceway of this studio apartment. Not a peep was heard from the women.

There was a shuffle. Then, creaking of the furniture.

“Hey, Ingrid, are you awake?”

The blonde adventurer stared at the glassed window, replying, “Yes.”

Dorothea softly sighed. Ingrid’s eyes soon widened when Dorothea pressed her body to her back, breasts pushing against her through the fabrics. Her cheeks flushed, unable to remove herself from the warm embrace.

“What went wrong with our relationship?” Dorothea mumbled, burying her face into Ingrid’s shoulder. Ingrid remained still, trying to focus on a singular point from the window. The brown-haired woman tightened her hold. “Say… when did we stop trusting each other in battle?”

Ingrid shifted her gaze to her elbow. Her other hand slowly reached to Dorothea’s, tracing the back of her hand. She whispered, “I don’t know.” The Dragoon’s hand eventually enveloped Dorothea’s from above. “I don’t know…”

Dorothea exhaled into Ingrid. “When will we stop this?” This cycle of distrust continuously moved, the end nowhere in sight for the two. Ingrid and Dorothea, once filled with chemistry, became full of sparks and friction on the battlefield. Disagreements blew into large proportions. Ingrid bit the inside of her cheek, Dorothea’s voice cracking, “When will we return to what we once were?”

“…I don’t know.”

That was all she could say.

And that was all she knew.

“I don’t know.”

Just like Dorothea.

[-----]

A little over a month flipped by on the calendar. Felix and Lysithea were still out of the country, their business lying in Ishgard with Sylvain and Seteth, still leaving Dorothea and Ingrid alone as a duo. Soon, they landed themselves in The Black Shroud once again, their client begging on his knees in Camp Tranquil, requesting they visit Amdapor Keep again.

This time, for some ghostbusting.

Beads of sweat flew from their heads as he howled for help. They immediately accepted his offer without thinking twice. Not because they wanted to. It was to shut him up indefinitely. Unfortunately, his howls morphed to wails of delight, bowing to them as if they were a deity. The Dragoon and Scholar stifled their grumbles and sighs.

What an embarrassment. Ingrid and Dorothea would’ve preferred to clean up chocobo dung for a day at the ranch in place of his flamboyant performances.

“Hm? Who do we have here?”

After hopping off of Glenn and Anderson, the feathered creatures rushing to safety by the Keep, they were greeted with two other adventurers. They weren’t Felix or Lysithea. That teal-haired Samurai and white-haired Warrior… Ingrid crossed her arms and tilted her head, pondering. Dorothea, though, rushed ahead. The blonde Dragoon watched her friend take the taller woman’s hand into hers, shaking it.

“I cannot believe I got to bump into the one and only Byleth Eisner!”

Wait. Byleth Eisner… the Byleth Eisner? The Warrior of Light that Eorzea announced months ago? Ingrid slowly approached the two adventurers, her eyes wide. She glanced at the Warrior, Edelgard placing a hand on her hip. If that is the case, then this must be the other Warrior of Light that Eorzea proclaimed shortly afterward.

Just what are they doing here? And where are the other two?

“Weren’t there four Warriors of Light?” Ingrid blurted.

Edelgard gestured to the sky. “They’re taking care of technical matters with Cid. Something about an airship in Mor Dhona.”

Turns out, Byleth and Edelgard were useless in Cid’s expedition, he specifically requiring mages only. As Hubert and Mercedes were respectively a Black and White Mage, they bid their farewells to their comrades, leaving the remaining two in their house at Shirogane. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn organization didn’t require their assistance either, so they were free to spend their week.

With half of the party gone, they lounged in the mansion, occasionally sparring at the training ground in their backyard. The couple went to grab some meals and ingredients at the fresh market by the shores, cooking up delicious food to their stomach. Byleth would also spend most of her evening tending to the garden with Edelgard, scarlet carnations and white lilies blossoming in the front yard. At night, they would drink each other’s lips, mouth, scent, body, and nectar, passion driving them to express their love in wonderful ways.

They never left the island. At least, until the last day of the week.

“So, you’re telling me that you accepted his plea to defeat the monsters in this Keep?” Dorothea asked.

Byleth nodded. “We might as well. As much as I would like to relax at home, I heard that Amdapor Keep is overrun with the Lambs of Dalamud.” She frowned. “I cannot allow them to continue summoning demons and monsters… and I cannot allow them to recreate the Calamity.” The Samurai glanced elsewhere, biting her lip. “If it were to happen again, I doubt we would be able to survive without Master Louisoix’s guidance.”

Noticing that both Ingrid and Dorothea blankly stared at her, Byleth chuckled, lowered her head, and patted her chest. “Let us team up for this task. I figured it would be faster to clear the Keep if we work together.” Having one tank, Edelgard, one healer, Dorothea, and two damage dealers, Byleth and Ingrid, would improve the success rate. Ingrid and Dorothea exchanged looks. Then, they smiled and nodded.

“That would be great,” Ingrid extended her hand out, shaking both Byleth’s and Edelgard’s hand. “It would be an honor to fight alongside the Warriors of Light.”

“Please rely on us,” Edelgard firmly shook. “We will also rely on you both.”

“Right…”

Her word trailed off, shifting a glance at Dorothea. Dorothea responded with a strained smile to the heroes of Eorzea. Their coordination hadn’t mended yet. Ingrid balled her hands into fists. Hopefully, this run will end quickly. The last thing they both would want is to feel deep shame from their piercing stares.

The group arrived at the entranceway of Amdapor Keep. Compared to the previous experience Dorothea and Ingrid had, they hadn’t traveled inside of the premise, their mission entailing them to rescue hostages. Dorothea gulped, both Eos and Selene summoned to her side. The two faeries sat on her shoulders, staring at the dark halls, trembling.

“Do we REALLY have to go with you, Dorothy?” Eos trembled. Selene, despite her shaken features, glanced at her companion. “What are you talking about?” she snapped. “We have to! We have to protect everyone on her team.”

“I’m not too good with the dark, you know…”

“Gosh, I didn’t know you were so scared!” Selene flew over to her and karate chopped her head. “Get a grip! You’ll get used to it!”

The faeries squabbled continued as Byleth and Edelgard inhaled deeply. Then, Edelgard murmured, “I hate the dark so much…”

“Is there a reason why?” Byleth asked. Edelgard grumbled, “It reminds me of an abandoned keep I stayed after my family was killed.”

“Oh.”

Then, the Samurai swept her hand out, pulling her girlfriend in. She planted a kiss on her head and whispered, “You’re going to be okay. I’m here for you, and I won’t leave your side.” Based on their tactical group placement, Byleth would always stay behind Edelgard. Then, it would be Ingrid, her lance long enough to strike from the distance. Finally, Dorothea would be behind, casting protection and allowing the faeries to cast white magic unto the group. Byleth’s eyes crinkled and nuzzled with Edelgard’s nose. “I’ll protect you, El.”

“Byleth…” she furiously blushed, trying hard not to drop her axe and cover her face. Why is she always saying something so cool? Edelgard felt like she could fly up to heaven any time now.

“…”

Dorothea and Ingrid stared in the background, their eyes deadpan set on the couple.

“I didn’t know Byleth had a girlfriend…” Ingrid mumbled. She struggled to not sigh, her gaze settled elsewhere— or rather, anywhere but the sweetened couple. “Must be wonderful to fall in love.”

“Oh? Are you jealous of them?” Dorothea leaned forward and held the spellbook behind her back. She stared up at the Dragoon. “Did you want to go out with Byleth?”

“What— No!”

No flustered cheeks. She had to probe again.

“Then… Edelgard?”

“NO!”

“Who could it be— Ah, did you maybe want to pursue a relationship just like theirs?” Dorothea giggled. She straightened her back and tossed her arm over Ingrid’s shoulders, pulling her close. She whispered into her ear, “If you want, I’m always available, just for you.”

“…”

Ah— Wait a minute, did she just spot Ingrid’s cheeks glow hot red? Dorothea blinked. Then, the said feature had disappeared, Ingrid removing herself from her friend’s grasp. The blonde adventurer adjusted her gauntlet and murmured incomprehensibly under her breath. Something about “you fool” and “why are you always saying the silliest things.” There was more, but neither did Dorothea nor the other two members caught wind of it.

Their banters ended once Edelgard announced their start.

And their start was filled with dread. Blackness shrouded their vision, torches barely illuminating the vast space from the Keep’s rooms and atriums. Tension clung to their muscles, their movement slow, and their eyes shifting left and right with each step. The darkness swayed, the flames flickering from their passing.

They felt the slope tilting downward at an angle, causing the four to descend deeper into the Keep. Edelgard had to quietly whisper counts of one to four with every step, her knuckles whitening on the axe’s handle. Byleth kept her katana sheathed, one hand resting on its hilt. Ingrid had pulled out her lance since the start of the Keep. As for Dorothea, she kept her book open, Selene and Eos circling the group passively.

So far, no lunatic followers bounced out of the shadows.

But something else did once the slope flattened.

**“OH MY GOSH, WHAT IS THAT?! KILL IT WITH FIRE!”**

Ingrid was the first to scream. She nearly dropped her lance, juggling it in her grasp as the demons, Vodoriga, flew down from the ceilings. Its claws were outstretched, aiming at the terrified Dragoon.

**“I THOUGHT WE WERE FIGHTING GHOSTS, NOT DEMONS!”**

This was the first time Dorothea had heard Ingrid screamed in pure horror. However, as much as she wants to double down and laugh, using this as blackmail material, their lives were in danger.

Dorothea swung her hand out and cast an immediate shield over her friend, the strikes bouncing off from the barrier. At that same moment, Edelgard swung her axe in a circle, smacking into the three creatures. Their attention diverted from the flustered Ingrid to the provoking Edelgard. The white-haired woman gritted her teeth, beckoning them with a fiery roar.

“I’m your opponent!”

The three demons screeched. Byleth, Ingrid, and Dorothea squinted an eye, keeping their hands away from their ears. The Samurai slid her katana out and rushed to the monsters. Her wrists flicked and twisted. Lacerations splashed upon the Vodoriga’s bodies, their screeches becoming louder.

Seven Hells! They were becoming a nuisance to their eardrums! Ingrid finally placed a hand to her ear, shaking her head. Their inhumane noise rattled in her head. She fixed her posture and twirled the lance at hand. As Byleth was occupied with the second demon, the first succumbing to her dicing, Ingrid slid her leg backward. She bent her knees, eyes narrowed. Then, she launched herself at the third demon.

In synchronization with Byleth’s final slash, Ingrid stabbed into the creature’s belly, dark, black fluids sprouting from its hole. When she tore her weapon out, bits of its dark red flesh flew, the draconic warrior splattered with its remains. A choking cry chortled out of its throat and collapsed onto the stone pavements. Blood seeped through the cracks and traced the ground’s linings.

Byleth flicked her blade, the excessive blood thrown near the fallen demons. She kept her weapon out in one hand, her eyes examining their surroundings.

Only three demons had jumped them.

She frowned. “That can’t be it… Where are the cult members?” And most importantly, what happened to the other monsters that festered this area?

Dorothea shrugged her shoulders, the faeries beginning to cast buffs and heals to any minor injuries on their teammates. “Maybe they ran away the last time we say them?”

“You’ve met with them before?”

“Yes,” the Scholar pointed at both herself and Ingrid. “We came here one month ago to rescue captured civilians from Gridania. We’ve bumped into the followers, but fought with them.”

“How many did you kill?”

“Hm… Five.”

“That’s not enough.” Byleth cupped her chin, pondering. “The Lambs of Dalamud isn’t that small of an organization to warrant little attention. Minfilia and Alphinaud mentioned the threats that they would have in Eorzea.” If the leader and main tactician of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn warned of their existence, there must be something amiss in this situation, their numbers hardly worth counting. “I don’t understand.”

Edelgard lightly jabbed Byleth’s unwounded side. “Let’s keep moving. Standing around and talking about it can be saved after we head to the final room.”

And so, they did, their feet carrying them into the largest atrium of them all in this Keep. Yet they bumped into a dead end.

Full of dead bodies.

“Oh no, I can’t deal with this,” the faeries spoke in unison and dashed out the doorway, waiting out in the hall for them.

Dorothea covered her mouth, turning away, and struggled to keep her heaves down. The stench of dead bodies of innocent civilians, members of the Lambs of Dalamud, and even those demons spread throughout the premise, surprisingly kept in this room upon arrival. But the concentration was strong as a result. Ingrid slammed her lance into the ground. She heard a sickening squelch. When she stepped back, she heard a crunch.

“Why did we even come here…!”

She leaned against the wall and felt bile rise to her throat. Byleth quickly approached the two adventurers, popping out two white cloths soaked with herbal fluids, and extended it to them. Dorothea immediately donned it, to her relief. As for Ingrid, she spat the remainder of her stomach’s acid, a headache drumming upon her skull. The Dragoon, after wiping her mouth with her own handkerchief, used Byleth’s cloth to conceal her mouth and nose.

Edelgard grimaced and walked past the dead bodies. She made it to the end, placed her hand on the plain, white wall, and stared at it. It stood out of place from the bricked walls surrounding it. No matter how much she patted and smoothed, the wall stayed as a wall, no special mechanism or trap activated.

“…Nothing.”

She knocked on the wall.

No response.

The Warrior’s shoulders slumped. For such a gruesome scene, this was anticlimactic. Perhaps it was for the best. She plopped her axe over her shoulders and turned to the group. “We should head back. There’s nothing more for us to achieve by staying here.” Edelgard sighed, her sight landing on a deceased child. “…I don’t think I could stay in this room any longer than necessary.”

Everyone unanimously agreed.

Fresh air— or more like fresh, fine sandy dust entered their nose once they left the atrium. Ingrid and Dorothea removed their cloths, gasping for air.

“How could you stomach that smell?” Ingrid questioned Byleth and Edelgard. The two exchanged looks. “…experience?”

Experience. Really. Then again, taking into consideration of Edelgard’s past and Byleth’s history of heroic deeds and the Seventh Umbral Calamity, it was not surprising. But Ingrid and Dorothea did not know the finer details, in awe of the fortitude and strength these Warriors of Light had.

They walked into another atrium. Ingrid frowned. “Wait,” she held up a hand, stopping the group. Everyone looked at her, watching the Dragoon slowly scan their surroundings. “Is it just me or did we not go through this atrium before?”

“Please don’t tell me we went the wrong way…” Dorothea groaned.

Selene shook her head. “No, we didn’t.” When she saw Dorothea raise her brow, the faerie flew up to her face and poked her nose. “We went the right way! If you so doubt me, ask Eos over here!”

“O-Oh, me?” Eos frantically waved her hands. “Yes… Yes! We went this way before... I think.”

“I think?”

“I’m sorry, okay?!” she puffed her cheeks, glaring at her tiny comrade. Eos threw her hands down and fumed. “This room is totally different!”

“There’s only one way in and out of the hallway though.”

“That’s what's strange!” Eos fluttered to the crumbled pillars and stood on it. She crossed her arms, glancing at the shambled walls nearby. “I’ve never seen this atrium before since we’ve entered the Keep. How could we cross by, but not at the same time?”

Ingrid scratched her cheek. “We aren’t going to be stuck here, right…?” Dorothea punched Ingrid on the arm, eliciting a yelp. “Don’t say that!” she frowned. “We are NOT going to be stuck here.”

Byleth rubbed her temple. She glanced at her girlfriend and forced a smile. Edelgard, on the other hand, couldn’t even form one. The Warrior rested both hands on her axe, the head resting on the ground. She grumbled, “What in the world is going on?”

Alas, the answer to their questions came to light.

Anantaboga.

Byleth, Edelgard, Ingrid, Dorothea, and the faeries felt their heart drop to their stomach. The creature— No, this… this ugly, vile demon just as large as a Bahamut crawled out of the broken walls, its head sticking out first. Those Vodorigas from earlier did not hold the lantern to this salivating beast.

“WHAT IS THAT?!” Edelgard screamed, her axe dropping. “SEVEN HELLS!”

With a jaw wider than its entire head, those elongated, brown curved fangs amplified the fear factor by ten, the Anantaboga’s black, shiny eyes staring at its prey. It tilted its head downward, showing off its massive horns closely resembling that of the devils, and screeched.

The Warrior scrambled to her knees, trying to pick up her axe with shaky hands. She was not pious. But today, at this very moment, she prayed to every single entity on this planet to save them from this nightmare fueled beast.

Byleth quickly shook off her shock and adjusted her posture. Sweat slid down the side of her face, her navy hues locked with the giant demon. It spread its bony wings, another screech bursting from its mouth. She tightened her grip and slashed at the creature. So long as she could complete all three Sen with three specific movesets, her Iaijutsu should finish it off with a fatal stroke.

But she requires time. If she’s under attack— to which she parried in a frenzy, Byleth is rendered immobile.

Luckily, Edelgard regained her composure and picked up her axe. She dashed to their direction. The white-haired woman immediately unleashed a flurry of slams into the demon, switching its attention to her and dragging it away from the middle of the battlefield.

The monster swept its large tail, but the group was able to dodge.

Ingrid and Dorothea regained footing and dispelled their fears. When they watched their teammates, they noticed something peculiar.

_Chemistry._

When Edelgard ducked in time to avoid a swipe, Byleth took her place, vertically and horizontally cutting at Anantaboga’s belly and legs. She bounced back for Edelgard to maintain its attention on her. She clenched her teeth, back trembling from the immense weight, her axe’s handle taking the blow of its humongous claws. After all, a tank’s job is to keep the enemy sight on them at all times, even at the expense of their health.

“Seeing them work together reminds me of how we used to be.” The Dragoon raised her lance. Looking at her ally, she faintly smiled. “Just like old times.”

Dorothea, after commanding Eos and Selene to watch over Edelgard, chuckled. “You think so?” she said, her book beginning to flip its pages. “Do you think we’ll ever return to that time?”

“I think so.”

The Scholar firmed her lips. “You’re not saying that to make me feel better, right?” If there’s one thing Dorothea hates, she hates weightless words. Ingrid shook her head. The brown-haired woman shifted her green hues, brows furrowed. “Then show it to me. Don’t just say pretty words.”

“I will.” Ingrid approached Dorothea. Then, she grabbed her comrade’s hand, placing it over her chest. Dorothea felt her heart thumping wildly. She wasn’t sure where this was going, but her cheeks flared, her fingers molding over her modest breasts. The blonde warrior smiled. “Please, trust in me. My heart could never lie to you.”

Cheesy. Absolutely _cheesy._

Dorothea’s shades darkened as Ingrid released her hand, backing away from the Scholar. She raised her lance and gestured to the occupied demon. Then, she said, “I’m off.” Ingrid disappeared in a blink of an eye. Not even a second passed and she slammed the tip of her lance down, driving the stained tip into its skull. Anantaboga shrieked at the impact, swinging its head wildly.

This threw Ingrid off its head, her lance forcibly torn out. Her back slammed against the nearby wall, a jolt of pain zipping through her spine. Ingrid stifled an outcry as she slid down to the ground. The Dragoon wasn’t out for long, crawling to all four, shaking her head. With her lance still at hand, she raised her head and watched the demon expel its Rotten Breath.

Edelgard and Byleth were unable to hold their breaths in time. A whiff of its toxic breath shot inflammation throughout their respiratory system, the two sent onto their knees and hands. The Samurai wheezed, coughing violently, blood expelled from her mouth. Edelgard met a similar fate, the crimson substance trickling from the corner of her lips. She wiped it, feeling a cleansing effect in place thanks to Selene and Eos.

“Ugh… If it weren’t for you both, I think we would’ve died out here,” Edelgard spat to the side.

Byleth scoffed. “We have Antidotes, you know.”

“They taste disgusting.”

“You say that to everything, even to Potions and Ether.”

“They should’ve made them taste like sweets.”

“That might make me feel even worse if someone invented that…”

When the bruised Dragoon rejoined them, the three raised their weapons, ready for the second round. Anantaboga stomped, lunging at the nearest member. Edelgard too stomped on the ground, reeling her arms back, and buried the axehead into its face. The force she applied to the creature was enough to send it skidding to the side, the axe ripped from its thick skin. Before it could recover, spells of Ruin and Bio were inflicted, causing the demon to stumble even more.

Dorothea sent Ruin after Ruin to the monster, relentless. The three other adventurers took this chance to whittle its health down.

However, Anantaboga had a trick up its sleeve.

A strong tug pulled at the warriors, the adventurers stumbling in place. The creature had stayed still, unmoving, but breathing. Dorothea glanced over her shoulder. At the center of the room, a small, black ball swirled with purple energy had formed. It was growing larger by the passing second. The Scholar felt her blood freeze and hollered, “Stay close to the demon and slay it as fast as you can!”

“W-What?!” Byleth widened her eyes. “You want us to do WHAT?!”

Ingrid grabbed the Warrior of Light’s arm. “Listen to her! She knows what she’s doing.”

“Are you sure about that? I’m a little concerned we’re to stay close to this hellish monster while we have a ticking timebomb over there!”

“Trust me,” she said. “I trust in her.”

“If… If you say so.”

Byleth motioned for Edelgard and Ingrid to stay close. The two faeries joined the small gather too. Their attention diverted to the stilled creature, vulnerable during its execution of the spell. Dorothea, on the other hand, stayed near the dangerous Catastrophe, a dark spell that would crush their souls and eat chunks of it if they were to come into contact. The Scholar immediately cast shields to her comrades and… to the dark matter. Not a lick of protection had formed around the healer.

Ingrid’s jawlines formed. This was starting to become a repeat of their time with the Bahamut. However, Felix and Lysithea weren’t here, their presence replaced with Byleth and Edelgard. She felt an urge to move. But the blonde warrior pulled herself back, staying in place. Instead, her eyes were locked with Dorothea’s, her heart threatening to burst from her chest.

Dorothea will be okay! She will be!

A pause.

Then, an explosion.

Dorothea gasped when her barrier cracked rapidly from the Catastrophe. She reached out again, not only strengthening the damaged shield, but recreating a new layer. Sweat slid down her face, her hand constantly making new barriers.

“Grrgk!?”

Blood surged to her mouth, the Scholar taxing her body past its limits. Curses! Dorothea would have downed a Hi-Ether at this point, but her hands aren’t exactly unoccupied. She grimaced, ignoring the burning sensation deep in her abdomen, and strained one last spell, curling her outstretched fingers inward. Normally, a defensive structure would stay in place. Dorothea chose to shrink it, crushing the dark matter that tried to escape.

She closed her eyes, sweating heavily.

“DOROTHEA!”

Dorothea snapped open her eyes. The concentrated energy had shrunken on its own, disappearing with a small puff of smoke. She lowered her hand, glancing at her teammates. The monstrosity that likely murdered the other demons, Lambs of Dalamud, and civilians laid still on the decorated pavement, its mouth wide open. Black blood had splashed the ground, the final blow delivered by Ingrid herself.

The three of them stood victorious, and a grin broke out on Dorothea’s face.

“Hah… we did it…”

Then, she blacked out, the last she’s heard was Ingrid screaming for her name.

Ingrid tossed her lance behind her back and launched herself at the Scholar. She caught her in the nick of time, skidding to a rough stop at the other end of the atrium. Ingrid, winded from the battle, could barely keep her eyes open as she examined Dorothea.

“Oh no…” she panted and shook her head. “No… no, no! Selene, Eos!”

The faeries hurried to Dorothea’s side. However, Dorothea’s unconsciousness meant they were quickly transported back to their realm, Selene and Eos fading in a golden and silver sprinkle once they neared the two. Ingrid cursed under her breath. “Dammit! I don’t have a choice, do I?!” She deeply inhaled, held it, and lifted Dorothea in a bridal fashion within her arms.

Fatigue dragged her strength down to rock bottom. Ingrid respirations were audible, her mouth inhaling and exhaling with every breath. Byleth grimaced. A flurry of gust encircled around the Warrior of Light. At that instant, she changed her job to a Conjurer, her red robe exchanged for a hooded white one. Weathered staff at hand, the teal-haired woman began to cast Cure on the two adventurers.

“This is the least I could do,” Byleth said. Compared to Dorothea and Mercedes, she could not cast a stronger Cure spell to her allies, only able to invigorate them in small increments. She wasn’t trained extensively in white magic, and she didn’t plan to do so. She motioned with her staff to the exit. “Go! Call your chocobo and take her to safety!”

“What about you both?”

Byleth closed her eyes, her job exchanged for the Samurai once again. She patted her sheathed katana. “We’re going to protect you both from any more danger. Don’t worry about the leftover goons and monsters.”

“O-Okay!”

And so, she listened to them, dashing away from the premise. Once they were out of the picture, Byleth’s façade dropped, slumping to her knees. Edelgard reached over to support her lover, the weakened adventurer grasping ahold of her years-old injury. She bitterly chuckled.

“I… I sometimes wonder… if my body can last...”

“Please don’t say that,” Edelgard frowned, adjusting her hold on Byleth. An axe in one hand, she guided them out of the dark Keep. Once they’ve popped out of the area without interruption, Edelgard added, “If you think you need a break from adventuring, I will fully support you.”

“No… No, I can’t,” she said. “Not after what I’ve decided on.”

“Byleth, I’m worried about you.”

The Samurai lowered her head, dragging her feet, and stifled a laugh. “I’m not exactly a good girlfriend if I’m making you worry, huh.” Edelgard scoffed. “Please, you just have a poor choice of words. Besides,” Sothis hopped in front of them, the feathered creature squawking at the sight of her owners. Edelgard could not help but smile. “If anything happens, at least I’m here for you. I won’t leave your side.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now… time to get up on her saddle— AH! Byleth! Did you have to fall unconscious right now?!”

Edelgard groaned, tossing her girlfriend onto the bird, and rushed to Camp Tranquil. Turns out, Byleth just needed some rest, tired from the trip, to her relief.

Dorothea, though, was not so lucky.

At the same establishment, Edelgard came to visit Ingrid, who was booted out of the surgery tent. A generous White Mage cast healing spells on the Dragoon, Ingrid stripping her dirtied helmet from her head. She shook her head to loosen her long, blonde hair, some of its strands plastered to her sweaty forehead. Ingrid looked up. Seeing the second Warrior of Light, she expressed gratitude.

“How’s Dorothea?”

“…not good.”

Ingrid toyed with her thumbs as a bandage was placed over a scratch on her cheek. She stared at her metallic boots, clinking them together with a tap. “She’s used so much of her magic, she hurt her body in the process.” Her hand slid on top of each other, grasping and squeezing her thumbs. The Dragoon’s emerald hues watered, her tears sliding down her face. “Seven Hells, why did she do that?” She lowered her head until she rested her forehead upon her hands. “Why did she do that to herself to save us?”

“That’s because she cares for you,” Edelgard said. She placed a hand over her back, brows arched. “And to the extent that she’s going for you and us… that’s rare. Not many are willing to risk their lives for others.”

“If only I didn’t trust her—”

“Don’t say that,” she frowned. “It’s because you trust in her that she was able to save us. If anything, you might’ve saved her life too.”

“…you think so?”

Edelgard smiled. “I’m sure the situation would’ve worsened if any of us jumped into the fray. Dorothea knew what she was doing.” She patted her back one more time before pulling her hand back. “And she trusted you to trust in her.”

“At the expense of her health?”

“Please have more faith in her.”

“Right…”

Ingrid looked back to the tent. The doctors and nurses are still hard at work. She drew her lips to a line and sighed. Then, she placed a hand over her chest.

If the off chance that Dorothea succumbs to her injuries… Ingrid’s heart raced. She gritted her teeth and stood up from the crates, Edelgard nearly tumbling backward. The Dragoon tightened her grip.

“…I have to tell her how I feel.”

“Wait, you’re going to confess your love to her right now?!”

“Yes— Well, not love, but yes, I’m going to let her know about everything I feel about her.”

“You know she’s in the middle of an operation!”

Ingrid shook her head. “I just want to let her know before it’s too late. I can’t take any chances.” Before Edelgard could say anything, the blonde woman dashed off and… back into the surgery room. Arguments were beginning to brew as the medical staff tried to remove Ingrid from the premise.

This feeling that constricts her chest… They had known each other for years, but they’ve referred to each other as friends only. Dorothea’s flirtatious nature was taken as jests. Ingrid had never really taken an interest in any romantic relationship with anyone. They were bound to be platonically together, forever.

However, in this past month, Ingrid felt her heart stirring, an unknown, but passionate emotion clawing from the inside.

She wants to know why, when she thinks of someone beautiful, she always referred to the fashionable woman. She wants to know why she doesn’t want Dorothea to be flirting or dating anyone else other than her. She wants to know why she wishes to stay with Dorothea forever. She wants to know why Dorothea is making her feel this way. And she needs answers.

The white-haired ally rested a hand on her hip, sighing loudly. “Ridiculous. Does she know that she’s madly in love with Dorothea?” Even though they’ve only met today, during the battle, the way Ingrid looked at Dorothea, and the way she’s interacted with the Scholar… That was something beyond friendship.

The question is, how long had this friendship been going on for?

Edelgard crossed her arms. The ruckus was getting louder, now involving nearby security guards. Another sigh escaped her. This was not her business to butt in. Better leave them alone. But she prays that they get something out of it.

[-----]

**One year later…**

Ingrid stared at two pieces of paper inside of her apartment, her brows raised. She sat on the edge of the queen size mattress, one paper in each hand. The Dragoon, dressed in a casual set of attire consisting of a plain buttoned shirt and khakis, read the content.

“Babe, what are you reading?”

Dorothea came from the side, her arms slithering around Ingrid’s waist. Her blonde girlfriend turned to her, giving her a peck on the cheek. “Take a look at this.” She raised the papers to their level. Turns out, due to their efforts in Eorzea, they, along with Felix and Lysithea, were acknowledged to be that of the Warriors of Light

Though… unlike Hubert, Mercedes, Byleth, and Edelgard, both Ingrid and Dorothea felt deflated from hearing the news.

“…Did we really do much over the past years we’ve been together?”

Dorothea hummed and tapped Ingrid’s nose. “Actually, yes. We’ve probably done just as much as Byleth.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about this…” Ingrid tossed the papers onto the coffee table, her arms crossed. She tilted her head to the side and pondered. “We’ll be called out frequently to help the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and might have to deal with political affairs.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Everything.” Ingrid held her head. “What if we mess up? What if we end up doing something wrong that’ll hurt Eorzea?” It’s true that the Warriors of Light’s actions are subjected to extreme scrutiny. One little slip-up and they will be immortalized in people’s hearts and memories. And Ingrid hated that.

Seeing her lover worried, Dorothea climbed on top of her lap, straddling the Dragoon. The Scholar gently removed Ingrid’s hands and cupped her face. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to be okay,” she said. Their foreheads touched, their eyes never leaving one another. “We’re going to be okay. After all, we have each other.”

She lightly kissed her lips. Then, when they parted, Ingrid immediately reached out to the back of her head, pulling her into another kiss. A burst of flame ignited from within Ingrid’s core, their kiss deeper than the previous. Dorothea moaned into her mouth, pressing her body into Ingrid’s. Ingrid’s fingers tangled with Dorothea’s luscious hair, drinking her everything.

“You’re right,” Ingrid panted, breaking from their kiss. She leaned in to gently plant one on the corner of her lips, whispering, “I have you… and that’s all that matters.”

Dorothea smiled, combing through Ingrid’s now-short hair. “So long as you continue to trust in me and vice versa… We’ll be okay.” Then, she pushed the Dragoon down, the Scholar climbing on top of the flustered woman. Still smiling, Dorothea whispered into her lips, “Will you trust me tonight too?”

“…yes.”


End file.
